I'd Rather Not
by Dyna.B
Summary: Le Chiffre Ends Up Surviving That Life Changing 'Night.' James Bond Is Required To Head To Montenegro To Bring Back Le Chiffre To Headquarters. To His Dismay, It's Not As Easy As He Thought. BondxChiffre Scenes Of Torture, Adult Themes, Profanity etc.
1. Your Mission

A/N: This James Bond story takes place right after the end of the latest Bond movie, 'Casino Royale'. It revolves around the storyline etc etc. So I think it may be a little bit hard to grasp if you haven't seen it!!

Reviews are loveeeee!!

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"What do you mean their all ... 'Gone'?!" M hissed, speaking to a CIA representitive on the phone. "I can't beleive this!!"

James Bond then walked in, looking at M with that changeless smug look on his face.

He had just gotten back from Venice, apparently still emotionaly wounded from the loss and betrayal of the lovely Vesper Lynd. Also still aching from the physical manner his body had been put through.

"Something just came up, I'll talk to you later." M then concluded, slamming the phone.

"Troubles??" Bond asked dryly.

"Le Chiffre, he's alive. And now a whole army of CIA has been anhilated. Even in a coma the man is still dangerous."

"Coma?? No, he's dead." Bond said a little worryingly, still trying to keep up his robust exterior.

"From what we thought, no. The bullet just grazed by him. And assuming from your angle, you didn't see that did you?"

"I saw clear enough to know that he's dead."

"He's not dead Bond. He's still in Montenegro, with one commanding officer with him. We want him here, and alive."

"How did a whole army of CIA get demolished if I may ask?"

M sat down on her leather chair, gazing up at James. "A bombing at the landing pad. Blew up before the rest of them could come aboard."

"And Le Chiffre survived that?" James said cocking up an eyebrow.

"They put him on the chopper first, the explosion only seemed to have reached those on the perimeter of the chopper. Evidently has been co-ordinated. Those babons are still wanting their money, and not forgetting it. I want you to go back to Montenegro and keep eye on Le Chiffre, and bring him back here to headquarters."

"I refuse to babysit him. I have more important things to do." James concluded, beginning to walk out the door.

"Bond." M quickly muttered, as he turned around to face her. "I offered you more time, you declined. This is a job for a double O. Obviously the CIA can't handle a man so dangerous. You are to leave as soon as possible. We'll keep in touch."

James gave out a bit of a scoff, giving M a cold smile. As he then made his way out, slowly closing the door behind him.


	2. Warm Welcoming

It all rushed back to him, the betrayal, the lust, the money, the power...Vesper.

He drove his silver Aston Martin DB5 opening a brown manila folder with his right hand which layed on the passanger seat. Looking back and forth to the road and the folder, he dug his hand inside. Pulling out two pieces of paper that were stapled, continuing his rummage, finding Le Chiffre's silver puffer.

"Hmph." James said aloud.

He then slipped the puffer in his suit jacket, maintaining his way down the road. Being told that he was to meet strictly at Hotel Splendide for further orders.

-----

He stepped out his vehicle, wearing a navy blue polo shirt, which was tucked into fitted blue jeans, also styling off his Armani sunglasses.

He walked inside the hotel, approaching the same lady from the last time he came, at the front desk. She looked up with a smile from behind her flawless straight black hair, with bangs dancing right above her eyebrows.

"Mr.Bond." she chirped.

"Yes. I assume you've got something for me?" he said bluntly, resting his forearms on the marbled counter.

"Yes."

She turned around, pulling out yet another manila sealed package, slipping it adjacent to his arms. He nodded at her, taking the package.

He pushed the button to go up on the elevator, releasing yet another sheet of paper, running his eyes on it. The faint chime of the elevator was heard, marching out onto the 5th floor on the beautiful Algerian styled ruby red rug. He slid his key card on door 429, discreetly opening the door.

The room was frigid, with an almost sinister feel. The lights were off, and all that was perceptible, was the light coming from a window to the right. James closed the door behind him, beginning to walk forward, inching to grab his gun.

Spinning hastily to the shadowed figure on his left, relived to see that it was only Le Chiffre, surley not looking too well. He was sitting in a golden chair, hands tied behind his back. He wore but a simple white polo shirt tucked into black Brioni pants. His eyes were puffed, looking as if he were in the process of crying, or feasibly just exhausted. His hair was all over the place, not in that mere comb-over that shaped his face. But he still had that same scar, over his left eye.

They glared at eachother with an empty feeling and silence, only to remember what they had both been through together. 'Pissed Off' was more of an appropriate term to explore James' true thoughts.

He looked to the right, recognizing one CIA member drowning in a pool of his own blood. Walking closer to examine a more desirable look, James took note of what a warm welcoming it was, having only to witness this rotting corpse lay lifelessly on the bed.

"Is it in the nature of a Double O to have his guests repugant, before meeting in flesh??" Le Chiffre asked aloud.

James slowly turned his head to look at him, frowning at him with his bleak blue eyes, immediately studying at his forehead, seeing that he was subsequently healed up. He roamed his eyes to level off Le Chiffre's, seeing that stupid look plastered on his face tilting his head to the right a bit, knowing he was studying Bond as hard as he could. James just looked away, taking his cellphone out of his pocket pressing a button, bringing it to his ear.

"M, we have a problem."

"As does the whole world." she cooed.

"The official is dead, bullet wound to the head. No evidence was left behind, only..."

Bond was quickly cut off, being grabbed by the neck from behind him. He dropped his phone, hearing M's desperate cries, _"Hello!!? HELLO?! BOND?! Are you there Bond?!" _James rolled the intruder off his back, making him flop on the bed, right on top of the dead CIA. James whipped out his gun, shooting the intruder right in between the eyes. Yet, falling flat like a pancake, having relentlessly another, 'Warm Welcoming' on his bed. He checked over at Le Chiffre, seeing him just watch mercylessly, alarming him that he showed no emotion in his face, but yet he was grossly entertained.

James bent down to pick up his phone, bringing it to his ear once more.

"Bond?? Bond?! What just happened?!" M cried.

"Send somebody to get these bodies cleaned up." James confirmed, shoving his gun in between his waist and belt line. "Just an intruder, something I'll be expecting I presume."

"Keep on your toes Bond, losing Le Chiffre is last on our agenda."

"Hmm, really? Seems to be the only thing I want to do."

"Does he know anything about it?" M questioned.

"I'll ask him later. That reminds me, his. ... Puffer --"

"Read the dosage." M replied, cutting him off.

"Is it required to give him it??" Bond said coldly looking over at a quite frustrated looking Le Chiffre. Just saying that so he would at least know that Le Chiffre had emotions, or was still even human.

"We want him alive Bond, not back here with a machine breathing for him."

"Just double checking. Mistakes do happen."

"They frequently do with you!" M replied enthusiastically.

James smiled to himself, "I'll talk to you soon M."


	3. Weak

James typed up his last petty details on his sleek black laptop, laying his back on the bed's headboard. He sent his document, then slowly closing the laptop shut. Looking up at Le Chiffre, who has been sitting in that chair ever since Bond has arrived.

"What?" Le Chiffre asked, "Is this, some class of punishment? To leave me here? To disdain me?"

"Disdain? Now wait, that's too harsh of a word. How about, not 'Minding'?" James snarked, "That better for you?"

Le Chiffre's eyes darted to his silver puffer which was also held hostage at the beautifully hand crafted end table beside the king sized bed. James also looked, as he sighed to himself, grabbing it as he walked up to Le Chiffre.

"Come along now." Bond hastily said, as if he hated to be put through this, which unquestionably ... He did.

He shoved the puffer into Le Chiffre's mouth, pressing down on the button above. Seeing the relief that swam over his face, inanimate almost. James swiftly returned to the bed, plopping himself down in the same position. Continuing to stare at Le Chiffre. Neither man showed confusion nor distress, or even the thought of backing down or giving in. Bond was captivated with him, he wanted to know what the hell Le Chiffre was thinking at this decisive moment, and back before he had last seen him. What did he think of his posse being killed by a single armed man? Does Le Chiffre even know that Mr.White is dead?

This was reminding James at every waking moment, that _he_ had avenged Le Chiffre and his associates.

"We leave at dawn." James Bond announced.

"What? So soon?"

"Is there a problem?" Bond questioned, "You have no chance of escaping, you have to face it."

"Do you care?" Le Chiffre said quite coldly, "Mr.Bond?"

"To be honest, I couldn't give a damn."

Le Chiffre gave out a small laugh, finally showing somewhat of emotion as a smile curled upon his face.

"You don't give a damn. Is that so?"

James nodded, "Yes."

"Why don't we stay longer here? Hmm?"

"And why would that be a conception?" Bond folded his arms, "Do you think I _want_ to be here?"  
"Oh, but of course. Your organization left you here to take care of me. A little deplorable wouldn't you agree? Treat you as a pushover. Your ranked at Double O status!"  
"Is this a diversion of some sort? A time to stall me so you could create a master plan?"

"As you said Mr.Bond. There is no chance of escaping." Le Chiffre moved around a bit in his chair. "I've seen what your capable of."  
"Likewise."

They both smiled, but not in a friendly way, but in a, 'He's Read Me So Wrong' kind of way.

"Is your woman the reason why you desire to leave?"  
"What?" Bond asked frowning.

"Miss Lynd. I saw the way you gazed at her. You were nothing but a puppet." Le Chiffre cracked a bit of a grin, "I know."  
"I'll kill you." James muttered.

"Is that a warning?"  
"A threat."

"Fair enough." Le Chiffre gave a nod.

James adjusted himself in bed, pulling the covers on top of him. He then stretched with his right arm, turning off the golden lamp.

"If you don't mind. I would like to be untied."

"No." James firmly answered, "Your sleeping there."

With that said, James closed his eyes shut. Not even disconcerting if Le Chiffre tried to get away. At this crunch of greedyness, it's not like he could care. All that was on his mind was Vesper.

How he once held her tightly before they slept the night away.

How they made sweet, sweet love.

Her smile, her smell, her love.

Everything.


	4. Beginning To Lose Control

**Authors Note:** Thanks SO Much to Those Who Have Reviewed, It Really Does Mean A Lot!! Enjoy The Next Chapter!!

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_"W--What?"_

James eyes shriveled a bit, incapable to open his eyes fully, reviving from a deep sleep. His senses were awoken enough to find himself, sitting in the shower. Feeling each ice brisk water pellet rebound off his blonde hair, having his face and clothes drenched to a soak. His eyes opened wide, investigating his surroundings, challenging to use his mind to obliterate the bitter coldness that was wrapped around each skin exposed area. The glass was see through, sitting on a dull white tiled floor.

"It's like the blood is on my fingers." A voice then distorted, he then felt a slight nibble on his white shirt. He looked to his right, feeling the blood drained out from his body, his arms grew limp, maybe that's why he couldn't seem to swing them off the shoulders of Vesper.

"I can't get it off ... " She continued in a whisper, her voice flat and all.

James wasn't brain dead ... He knew this has already happened, he knew his mind was bluffing him. Every night, ever since those concluding moments with her .. These dreams. Kept repeating themselves, kept coming back. It made him think if he still loved her or not.

_"I do."_ his conscious told him.

He had to put an end to this. No matter the agony, no matter this sacrifice, it was over. She's gone.

James got up, peeling himself off a desperate and consumed 'Vesper'. Her hair slicked to her shoulders, with her eyeliner and mascara bringing out those pain covered eyes with it's artly formed black lines. She looked up at him, in hurt. James bit his bottom lip frowning at this impostor.

"Ja ... James?" she then whimpered.

"Don't .. Say that." James uttered. "Don't .. Say that!"

He then viewed how ravishing, but broken Vesper looked in that same purple dress he had proposed her, with that sparkly sliver lining rearing attention to her breasts. This was going to be the last time he would look at this marvel ...

"Goodbye." James said.

He swung the door of the shower stall, slamming it shut. 'Vesper' screamed at the top of her lungs, pouring out her betrayal and grief. Every thumping step James took, it was like peeling off a glob of flesh without ease.

Le Chiffre continued to sit on the chair, feeling a sudden jolting pain on his wrists from being tied up for more than twenty four hours. He only got a couple hours of sleep, but of course, not as luxurious as James Bond. He watched as James tumbled in bed. As the rays of the sun highlighted the glimmer of sweat all over him.

"VESPER!" James yelled, sitting straight up, confirming Le Chiffre's assumptions.

Bond's chest pounded with each breath, feeling his wetness in reality realising that it was nothing but humanly sweat. He cleared this throat, aiming his eyes at what seemed to be a serene man across from him. James then galloped off the bed, heading into the washroom.

He walked out, dressed in a white dress shirt tucked into black dress pants, nearly mirroring Le Chiffre's attire. James headed towards the phone, dialing the number for room service.

"I would like to have your breakfast special." He then paused, "For two please. Oh, and while your at it. Bring up a bottle of whiskey." Another pause. "Yes, whiskey."

James put the phone down, walking up to his suitcase of things, rummaging around.

"How'd you sleep?" He asked aloud.

Le Chiffre didn't answer, but only visualized that Le Chiffre wasn't looking at the back of his head in such a civil way. James spun around to face him, holding his puffer in hand. He approached Le Chiffre who arched the right side of his mouth in an abhorred way, having his lips in a slight opening that it looked as if he were to bite James. He then stuck the puffer in between his lips, pressing down on the button, listening to Le Chiffre take in that fresh gasp of air. James paced back, placing it on the table. He went back through his rummage, bringing out his sleek black gun, loading it with ammo, sliding it in the gap between his belt buckle and his waist.

There was a knock at the door as James quickly obliged, walking through the attractive suite, who's golden furniture shun in the vivid clear sun. He came back in sight, reeling in a trolley with two plates stuffed with Sicilian sausage, honey cured bacon, vine ripened tomatoes, sautéed potatoes, scrambled eggs and berry pancakes served with maple syrup and cream, along with two glasses of orange juice, and Bond's requested whiskey with an extra glass.

Le Chiffre almost felt himself drooling, haven't eaten a thing for the past day or so. But he wouldn't show his vulnerability that easily. Unfortunately, his eye didn't comprehend the same, as a quick blot of blood revealed it's self. James detected it, as he pulled a white cloth from his clutter of stuff, wiping it off for Le Chiffre.

James pushed the trolley to the end of his bed, as he swung his legs over the edge, quickly digging in.

He chewed his food around in his mouth, looking up at Le Chiffre who's hunger wasn't as oblivious as he destined it would be. James reached over his plate, cutting up Le Chiffre's food items with his fork and knife, stabbing it hastily raising it to the front of Le Chiffre's face.

Le Chiffre just glared at the food, then back up at James.

"Come on now." James said, giving the fork and food a bit of a rattle.

Le Chiffre gave in to his hunger, opening his mouth, indulging himself in the blast of flavours.

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James took his last bite of his breakfast, also feeding off Le Chiffre's last bit, there was an impetuous tone coming from his unfolded laptop. He bounced off the bed, running his finger on the mouse control. He then quickly reached for his cellphone, speed dialing M.

"Hello?" M chirped.

"M, I got your message."

"Good, so it's confirmed?"

"Is this my replacement?"

"No." M said sturnly, "It's your help."

"I want out."

"James, this person has worked with us for years. I know it's hard for you to regain your trust, but please treat this with serious consideration!" M pleaded.

The corners of James' lips were pulled down, putting one hand on his hip as he slowly walked out to the balcony, soon being quite moved by the scenic grasps of nature.

"Why is it I was put with this? But not this ... 'Maxwell' person?" James demanded, "I bet Maxwell could do just as a better job to babysit."

"You've dealt with Le Chiffre long enough to know how he functions. Please Bond, we've been through this already!"

James walked back in, quickly walking to the trolley, pouring himself a drink of some whiskey, but in a moderate amount of course.

"Now, go meet Maxwell, and sort everything out. From there, I want you to report back to me right after. Is that understood James?"

"Yes."

"And while your out there, I want you to keep a keen eye on Le Chiffre. I want you to be mindful of your surroundings, because an assaination is bound to be planned, if not executed." M said with conern, "I also want you to be prudent too. You are now considered a target in this barbaric bloodbath 007."


End file.
